


Sleepy Hawkins

by Catharrington



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sleepy Hollow Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Established Relationship, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Protective Steve Harrington, Sleepy Hollow AU, graphic depictions of decapitation, hopper is the dad billy deserves, monster fighting, monsters from the upside down, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catharrington/pseuds/Catharrington
Summary: Hawkins is a small town, nothing weird ever happens here. The only gossip good enough to circulate was the cute family moving in from California a few years back, and now the favorite talk was that Steve Harrington got an actually decent job. October held nothing new or interesting... until bodies started showing up. Bodies missing their heads. And they all seem to point back to an angry Billy Hargrove.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 13
Kudos: 99





	1. rider on the highway

In the quiet of the night Hawkins, Indiana is sleepy. Not much noise is heard up and down the cold, red and gold tree lined streets. It was the first of October and more than the colors of the leaves were changing.

In an apartment complex, in a small bedroom, and on small bed, there was soft noise. Low moans of pleasure mixed with whispered promises. Steve’s head tilted back so his thick head of hair was pressed flat against the dark oak headboard. His mouth is open but only breath escapes, hurried and desperate breaths.

Billy is above him and looking down with his own breathless adoration, wondering how, again, he got someone like this to submit to him so willfully. He leans down and captures Steve’s rose colored lips in a possessive kiss.

They climax together in the small bedroom and they are not loud.

Breaths finally steady back to regular as they lay in the after glow of sex. Billy was laying across the brown haired boy’s chest, comfortable as his nose pressed into the curve of his soft, thin neck, and Steve’s arms are wrapped around Billy’s shoulders in his own possessive way. Thin fingers trailed over the muscles and played with a patch of slightly raised scar tissue. The tattoo of a skull was still vibrating from their activity. They laid like that until the heat was almost dispersed from the room.

Billy could feel himself falling asleep while tucked up in his lovers neck from the lullaby of soft breathing. But just before he could the bedside radio turned on with a flick. In the quiet room static, then music, shattered their silence.

“My fear is fading fast, been saving it all for you. ‘Cause only love can last...” a woman’s voice was soft as she sang, slowly, deliberately, the pop sounds of the music however were lost in the low quality of the radio.

Steve groaned as he tried to reach for the night stand, but his hand was inches short. Billy could almost laugh as he listened to the woman sing on about her first time while their after-glow and smell of sex still hung in the air.

He never wanted to let moments like this go. But he knew he had to get up and continue with his night.

Billy lifted himself back from the warm patch of chest hair, then sat on the edge of the bed. Steve reached forward to click off the radio’s alarm. In the new silence of the room they sat side by side on the edge of the bed. Steve leaned his body onto Billy’s hard side, always being the more touchy of the two, sighing as he settled into the plush skin.

He looked up at Billy with huge doe like brown eyes. “I don’t want to go to work.” He breathed out.

Billy just grinned in a way he knew Steve would like. “Yes you do, baby doll.” He lifted one hand to brush the mess of Steve’s brown hair off his forehead. This was a little bit of a routine to Steve. He would let his hair grow long almost over his shoulders and then get it cut so short it would almost loose its famous volume. Then he would let it grown again. Now it was just about time for a cut. His hair was tussled around and brushing his pale collar bones in such a way it made Billy’s mouth water.

Instead of indulging, Billy just tucked one loose strand of many behind Steve’s ear. “You want to go put on a show for the squares in this shit town... put on a show for me.”

Steve laughed very softly, not more than a whisper. “Yeah,” he groaned.

Billy leaned in for a kiss goodbye. It took two, maybe four more kisses before he actually left Steve’s bed. His clothes were a pile on the floor that he gathered up, jumping back in to his jeans without a care for his boxers. Likely they were soiled somewhere farther from reach. He buttoned half his shirt and shrugged on a thick denim jacket lined with sherpa fleece. The coat was expensive and fit him marvelously, a gift from an Indiana native who knew how cold fall nights can get.

He went out the door, after another kiss and a maybe too long lingering gaze on the naked body still laid out languidly across the bed, then walked through the almost completely dark apartment into the cold air outside.

He lit up a smoke and looked back up to Steve’s second story window just to see the light finally flick on as he readied for work.

Billy waited in the parking lot, looking up and down the foggy streets, as he finished his cigarette. He tried not to be upset that the weather changed so much from the sunny day it was before he went inside. But the weather didn’t matter, Billy decided, as he climbed inside his steel blue Chevy Camaro.

The fog was just as bad out on the highway, but Billy’s car was well kept and it’s lights were bright against the asphalt. Across his dashboard, the clock flicked to the top of the hour letting Billy know that was his cue to change from his cassette to the local radio station.

“Thanks for tuning in Hawkins. This is ‘Until Midnight’ and I hope you are having as good of a night as I am.” The voice now crowding the Camaro’s interior was clear, a little sultry, and familiar.

“This fog really crept up on us tonight. Super crazy. But that’s something I’ve always loved about this little town, Hawkins. Autumn always makes the simple things around us so pretty, maybe a little spooky... but pretty. Try and stay inside because it’s low visibility according to our great weather guy... but if you happen to be outside take a breath of this air and admire it a little. Maybe if you're listening while driving you can even see the trees changing colors this first of October.”

The announcer’s voice stopped to give a little giggle, the same laugh Billy heard minutes ago. Steve’s beautiful laugh trailed off as he continued talking. “And this first song I’ve got is for those of you driving in this oh so spooky fog tonight. Stay safe, you guys. Here’s a little Elton John.”

Billy smiled as he knew Steve was talking not just to the crowds of Hawkins’ night owls who ate up this nightly show, no, he was talking to Billy.

Slow piano notes filled the car and even though Billy never cared for love songs, he did like how Steve played them just for him.

As he drove too fast down the highway Billy had his head in the clouds, figuratively and a little literally. He was close to home. But in the fog there rode beside him a mass of black. A long neck lead to a thick body of muscle on four unwavering legs, a horse was in the woods just behind the line of trees. A horse with a figure atop that was black as night.

Billy didn’t notice as he drove along, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, until the horse rode past his car, lunging from the dark line of trees, then turning into the street. The next moment was a blur as Billy yanked his wheel to the side trying to spare the animal.

The Camaro veered loudly into the ditch along the highway. Smoke rose from the hood and joined the ever thick, ever dense fog all around him. Billy pushed his door open with a sickening metal creak and fell forward. The ground was wet and his breathing into the grass was loud to his ears.

Loud and panicked.

He almost didn’t hear the hooves approaching until they were directly in front of him. The mass shadow of a man still sat atop the horse as those hooves clicked to a stop on the pavement. Billy’s head was swimming as the shadow looked down at him.

After such a crash this could be a hallucination, Billy considered. 

He watched the figure with deafening breaths, as he figure watched him wordlessly and without moving.

Then just as quick as the horse entered the road and the crash occurred a stream of yellow light filled the street. Billy only blinked once to adjust to the light but when he looked again the figure was gone, replaced with a golden badge. A strip of headlights cut through the darkness and fog as a booming but familiar voice called out.

“Hargrove?!” Jim Hopper, the chief of police, in all his years living under his watchful protection Billy was actually happy to see him. Jim was quick in pulling Billy back to his feet and slapped his back to dust him off. They knew one another not well, but well enough to know they weren’t privy to coddling.

Billy rested against his car, just catching his breath as the officer rattled off questions.

“You said you saw a horse? Not a deer?” Jim asked.

Billy shrugged. After catching his breath he did a circle around his car to pleasantly find nothing but a few scratches and mud. Now he stayed with his back leaned against his closed door trying not to think about he mud covering his jacket. “I saw someone riding a horse in the middle of the street, Hop. Damn animal was so big I would have totaled my car if I didn’t turn. You didn’t see it?”

“No,” Jim was quick to answer. But then he hesitated. “No, can’t say I did, kid.”

Behind them the song changed and Steve’s voice flowed soft into the night air. Billy pressed deeper against his door and listened. 

They sat for a moment together in the fog before Billy reminded the officer that he was going to be late for curfew. Even out of high school, Hargrove kept a watchful eye over his flock. 

Like a good officer, Jim offered to file a report. Find the weirdo riding a horse in the middle of the street in the middle of the night. But Billy shook his head. He just wanted to get home and not get into trouble. Jim begrudgingly agreed.

He stayed to make sure the Camaro could pull itself out of the ditch and it did with no problem. Billy drove off with a wave.

But the night wasn’t the same. Any thing pleasant he had going with spending the night in Steve’s little bed was left in that ditch. Now, the fog was an army of ghosts waiting for Billy to crash back into them. Every tree was a horse trying to speed past him. Every branch was a dark rider reaching his hands out while Billy had no strength to move.

Billy pressed the petal to the floor and went almost 90 down the road, but it was worth it for the security of getting back to his home faster.

Using the word security for his house wasn’t something he often did. Thinking about how this night made him that scared had Billy’s blood turning to slugs in his veins, and exhaustion creeping up his neck.

Billy pulled the Camaro to a stop and rushed inside. He was a little past the time he should be home, but not by enough to warrant someone waiting up for him. 

The house was dark and quiet. He went softly to his room. 

The night was quiet and cold. Billy stepped out of his jeans and left them and his jacket a muddy pile on the ground. He should shower, after all he was covered in sweat and mud and a little come. And he should wash his clothing, he didn’t have much and the mud might ruin them. But he was so tired all he could do was fall into his bed. 

He breathed the familiar scent of his sheets, a few gulps, before he reached up to his bedside table and turned on a small red radio. 

On the station the last song was just ending, a goofy ballad by some pop artist Billy didn’t know the name of, and just as Billy felt himself falling asleep Steve was talking about the weather again.

“Has anyone seen John Carpenter's The Fog? I’ve only seen it recently myself. Adrienne Barbeau plays that DJ with pretty great hair. But I don’t think she holds a candle to your own humble radio personality, if I’m being honest.”

The next morning there was a report filed to the police station. Not by Billy, but by a morning jogger who caught the fright of their life.

A trucker was pulled off to the side of the road. His huge semi almost folded in half in a way that appeared as if he turned to try and miss something. The driver somehow gotten out of his truck and went a little ways into the thick line of trees. His body laid down on its stomach, a patch of black pooled where it once was red blood, and his head was missing from its shoulders.

Jim Hopper showed up to investigate the scene that morning with a cup of coffee in his hands. He looked around the body, taking note on the way the trees seemed to hang around the scene like blackened shadows, their bark stained darker than anything normal for October weather.

His boots sunk into soft ground and patches of mud created from the moisture last night. There were deep horse hooves imprints in a steady arch towards the body.

Jim took a long swig of his black coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short but I promise none of the others will be lol ;) Thank you for reading and maybe leave a comment!??!??
> 
> and I made a mood board for this [HERE](https://catharrington.tumblr.com/post/614779964107243520/sleepy-hawkins-20k-words-m-graphic) !!!!!!


	2. Spencer's Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last commercial gave way to Steve’s program. Billy drank the last of his second beer down to the final drop and laid across his bed just to bask in his voice.

The Hargrove phone rang loudly into the Hawkins morning. Susan was the one to pick it up and with pale fingers she passed the receiver to Billy.

“What’s up, old man? I said I didn’t want to file anything.” Billy answered assuredly.

Jim grumbled on the other end like a bear. “I ain’t asking you for shit, kid, this is an order. I got more questions and need you down at the station. Then I’m gonna have you talk to a sketch artist.”

Billy cut him off with a sharp intake of breath, “A sketch artist?” He repeated quietly. “What the hell?”

“Something happened last night close to where you drove into that ditch, kid. A trucker got...,” Jim’s words were slow as he spoke. As if he didn’t want to say much or scare Billy with all the information. “This trucker was killed. It couldn’t have happened more than an hour after you left. And I found hoof prints at the scene. Just like you saw.”

Listening to his tone Billy picked up on how serious the older man was. He didn’t like authority, but he did trust Jim to be a good guy. After all they both have memberships into the special fucked up club of the upside down. If he was coming looking for more information he could trust it was important.

Billy ran a hand down his face. “When do you want me to come in?”

They agreed on a time. Billy skipped his breakfast so he could finally take a shower. Thankfully, this allowed him to also skip any chance of conversation with his father and step mother. They didn’t seem to be interested in his phone call and didn’t ask any probing questions into last night. Billy still walked on egg shells around Neil, knowing all too well that good moods didn’t last forever.

He was back in the Camaro in no time, heading to the police station, thinking about what car wash to take her to so he didn’t think about that shadow rider from last night.

In the sunlight the police station wasn’t threatening. But Billy never liked the place in any light. He parked and went inside to see Jim’s secretary. She was an older woman, slightly chubby, with dark hair and thick glasses. Her nails tapped against the wood of her desk while she talked on the phone. Billy didn’t have to speak before she pointed towards the sheriff's door as an allowance to go inside. He flashed her a practiced smile as he went past to the office door.

Inside Jim was on the phone himself, but not just talking. He was demanding someone to do their job quicker, just like a chief of police from a television show would. He hung up the phone with a loud slam.

“Sorry to call you like this.” He started. But Billy put his hand up.

“I’ll answer some questions and give you a damn sketch but I won’t be on anything official. Don’t use my name anywhere, comprendo, Sir?”

By the way he was pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose, Jim seemed just as excited to work with Billy as Billy was to work with a sheriff. Not at all. “Sure kid, sure. Just let me get last night straight. You were driving what time again?”

“9 o’clock.” Billy didn’t have to think because he knew exactly when Steve’s show starts, and it was only minutes after that.

Jim motioned to the chair across from his desk and Billy reluctantly sat down. It was old but still comfortable enough to sink into. He considered putting his boots up on the clean wood of Jim’s desk, but went against it.

“9,” Jim repeated, “and what caused you to swerve?”

Billy leaned back in the chair. “Some asshole riding a horse in the middle of the street.”

Jim was taking down notes with a sharp looking expensive pen. “Were you drinking last night?”

“What the hell,” Billy rolled his eyes. Jim calmed him down saying he was just asking mundane questions. Billy still sneered as he replied. “No, I wasn’t drinking.”

“Were you taking any drugs?”

Billy almost stood up, but Jim’s face wasn’t accusatory like his fathers. So he stayed. “No, I wasn’t drunk or high, any of that shit. I’m clean.”

Jim nodded as he scribbled more. “Can you tell me what you were doing before you got on the road?”

Billy had to keep a laugh inside. “I was with Steve. At his apartment.” What he was doing was a good way to describe it. But Billy didn’t have to say that. 

It was known in town that Steve and Billy had a weird friendship. They went from getting into fights and leaving each other a bloody pulp, to sharing cigarettes and eating lunch in the parking lot. The reason they became friends was something not known to many. Something otherworldly. They grew side by side monster fighting and holding a shared trust of knowledge that cannot get out into the public. However, the relationship wasn’t always daisies.

Billy could remember when he finally tricked the information out of Max and officially joined the club. Most of the party, including Steve and Jim, were all none too happy with adding a new member. That changed, however, when Billy proved how he could hold his own the summer break before senior year when a Lovecraft horror mind-controlling monster thought a life guard would be a good soldier of war. 

The memory brought shivers to Billy he had to force away.

In the mundane public eye, Steve was one year ahead of him, already graduated, and joined the work force, but they somehow found time to stay friends. Among other things.

“Harrington?” Jim asked like he didn’t know. Billy simply nodded and thought about how much he wanted to fish out a cigarette from his pocket right now. “And where were you going?”

Billy thought that answer was the same as the one before, it didn’t need speaking. Jim wasn’t a fool and he knew the gossip and ghosts lurking around. He knew the hospital records of torn skin and broken bones under the name Hargrove was thick for a reason. But still his eyes were serious as he put Billy on the spot. 

“I have a curfew, like I said last night.” Billy explained. “If I’m not there on time pops doesn’t like it.” His jaw snapped shut and he left it just at that.

Jim watched him with darkened eyes. But even under those serious eyes Billy kept his mouth closed.

Finally, Jim let out a low sigh. “Let’s go on with what did you see on the road, again for me. If you don’t mind.”

Billy enjoyed winning that small battle. But in a way Jim was right. They needed to gather information for a murder case not just small town abusive fathers.

He furrowed his brows as he recalled the dark rider. “The horse was black. All the way, not a mark on him. And the guy riding was the same. From his shape I think he had a big bald head, or he was wearing a helmet. Maybe something like that. Just his shape is what I can remember.”

Jim’s pen made noise as he wrote quickly over the paper. “Could you make out any clothes on his shape?”

Billy touched his bottom lip with his thumb as he thought about it, still craving that cigarette. The moments of silence he watched the rider was spent in terror, Billy could remember it as a blur. But he tried to remember more. “He had tall boots. Riding boots. And a long winter jacket buttoned up. Looked that way at least.”

“Did you see the saddle?” Billy shook his head. It looked black too and nothing out of the ordinary, just a standard black saddle.

“Did he talk?”

“Not a damn word.”

Jim scratched over the paper before letting the pen drop. He ran his hand over his eyes, giving his temple a hard squeeze, before he took another drink of coffee.

They sat like that in silence for a few ticks of the clock on the wall. Then Jim reached into his front pocket and drew two thin white smokes, passed one to Billy, before he lit his tip on fire. “I’m going to pass you off to the sketch artist. She’s really good, might be able to get something from this mess. Don’t flirt with her or make her uncomfortable or we will have more problems then a questioning session.” 

If Jim knew how much Billy wasn’t interested in that it would make him laugh. But instead of replying, Billy just nodded and smiled around his cigarette.

He stood up to go towards the door. Jim called out to Billy just as his hand touched the knob. “Thanks, kid. For talking to me.”

“Sure, Hop.” Billy forced it out, not wanting to bask in anything or accept any genuine feelings. Not this early in the morning.

Back out in the lobby the secretary lead Billy to a younger woman clutching a drawing pad to her chest. Billy wanted just a little to flirt and make her uncomfortable. But he decided to not, just for Jim’s sake.

After he ran through the 100 questions for the artist she had a simple sketch, a dark silhouette on a horse. Nothing that could land anyone in jail. Billy knew it was useless to try.

He left the station as he came in, trying to forget about the whole thing.

He drove his steel blue Camaro to the closest gas station for a quick bite to eat. He leaned in the parking lot eating a sour tasting hot dog with mustard literally counting down the minutes until Steve would be awake. The radio host had to stay up pretty late so he slept well into the afternoon. 

Billy wanted to match up their schedules but he forced himself to stay getting up early, not only to catch the good house wife breakfast Susan kept making every morning, but also to try and loiter around Hawkins main drag looking for work. Today he knew he should do just that. 

Something was off, though, under Billy’s skin. A distracting tickle of electricity that made the veins under his fingers tight. Billy wanted only to release that pressure in the softness off Steve’s long hair, and get rid of that electric by filtering it through Steve’s milky skin. The feeling was not unlike coming down from being face to face with Neil in a bad mood.

In his hand, the hot dog bun squeezed its mustard over the edges. Billy quickly finished it off before it dropped.

Like he considered before, Billy did stop by a car wash, but it didn’t take as long as he thought it would to get his car looking like last night never happened.

There was still more time before Steve woke up.

Billy dragged his feet back into the car and drove until he was driving fast towards the outskirts of Hawkins. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, maybe a sign in some business window, or a flashing neon arrow, just something that seemed hopeful.

Right at the end of the main road, before it turned into just another dank smelling stretch of highway, there was a small auto repair shop. It was a brick building painted over many times different colors that were all flaking around the edges, but now it was just a light grey. There were two metal garage doors on the front wall that have seen better days. And a sign reading Spencer’s Shop in hand painted bright red block letters successfully caught attention right above a propped open screen door. Billy didn’t know if it was worth the trouble of asking, but he pulled into the little shop and parked.

Spencer turned out to be an older man, short and fat, with a bald head and grease all down his overalls. Billy smiled an actual toothy smile as he introduced himself.

“You want to work here?” Spencer asked. “This little place?”

Billy shrugged his shoulders as he looked around. It wasn’t a bad shop, sure small, but not bad. “I’m good with my hands. Good with cars.” He wasn’t bragging, just saying truths.

Spencer lifted one of his patchy eyebrows up, leaving wrinkles in his bald head, but Billy only replied with a thumb pointed over his shoulder. The older man looked out the screen door to the parked Camaro. His eyes visibility grew.

“Got her used when I was 16 and rebuilt half of her with junk yard parts. I dare you to try and figure that out just by looking at her.” Billy wasn’t proud of much, wasn’t proud of his family or his history of treating people poorly, but he was proud of his ability to build with his hands. Spencer must have seen it in his face because the old man let out a sigh before offering his dirty, oil covered hand for a shake.

There wasn’t much to do when he got offered the job at Spencer’s Shop. The old man owned it all by himself. From a small metal desk in his office at the corner of the shop he was able to actually scrounge together some forms for Billy to sign his name. And even found an extra hat with an embroidered logo he would spare for when Billy comes to his first shift tomorrow morning. To keep the hair out of his face. Spencer laughed as he explained he wasn’t really using it.

Billy left with a business card and a time written on the back of it. He almost laughed to himself as Spencer followed him out to wave goodbye. Billy could tell he just wanted to listen to the Camaro purr, so he reveled in it and reeved her up loudly before going back onto the highway.

There was a pep in his step, sure, but Billy could still feel that electricity under his skin. The highway pulled him far all the way back to that safe little apartment.

Steve lived in a homely brick building, wide but thin, cut into six units by winding wooden staircases. There was two in the ground level, then another two under that you had to take stairs down into, then two more built above on a second story. Steve lived in the second story unit to the left, the side with the best view of the sunset Billy always let him know.

Now the sun was full in the sky right at the afternoon. Billy hoped that Steve would be awake and if he wasn’t then he was going to be. Thankfully for Steve, when Billy used the spare key under the mat to open the door the brown haired boy was awake and bustling about in the kitchen.

There were news papers scattered over the small dining room table and one across the kitchens serving counters. Black and white papers folded open to a huge dark picture. Multiple publications but the same picture. Steve had his cordless phone tucked to his ear and was trying to make scrambled eggs at the same time. He didn’t notice Billy come in.

“I promise, okay? I promise. No... No!” He seemed to be arguing with someone. “No! I agree it would be shitty to mention so I won’t mention it. Scouts honor.” Steve held a huge wooden pepper crank over the eggs and it almost made him drop the phone but he managed to balance it. “Look, I just woke up can I eat some breakfast? I’ll come in early and we can talk more?” 

Pausing slightly to listen, he finally noticed Billy as the blonde walked closer to lean against the kitchen counter. Steve’s anxious face melted to something almost poetically softer. “Okay! I’m gonna see you later then.” He rushed it all out in one breath then ended the call with a plastic click of a button. Steve put the phone and the pepper grinder down on the counter top. He turned to Billy with a worried, almost pleading look on his face. 

Then without a word he stepped in and wrapped his arms around Billy’s waist in a desperate hug.

Billy was taken aback only for a second before he complied, burying his nose into the mess of hair on Steve’s head. He loved the way the other was holding him so tightly, like he could break his waist if he wanted, and had his face hidden in his neck drinking Billy’s scent.

Billy wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and stood for as long as he would be allowed. This was exactly what the electricity under his skin had been craving for all morning.

“Sometimes I forget how much of an asshole you are, William Hargrove.” Billy’s smile into soft hair faltered. That wasn’t the greeting he was expecting.

“You feeling okay, doll face?” Billy tested the waters.

Steve inhaled more of his scent before he lifted his head to meet Billy right at eye level. “So when were you going to tell me about last night? Before or after the eggs?”

Billy felt his shoulders drop at that question. Of course Steve knew with all his damn connections and this damn small town. Billy’s face is for sure going to be plastered all over the channel 2 local news before he could even figure it out himself. There was a familiar feeling of shame on the back of Billy’s neck and it made him look at the ground.

“My mug shot in the papers already?” He motioned with a soft nod towards the messy counter.

“No,” Steve’s fingers didn’t loosen, they tightened their grip around Billy’s waist. “Sheriff Hopper called me an hour ago to match stories. Making sure you weren’t lying about being here with me last night. He told me about your accident and...,” Steve trailed off. His eyes drifted to look over at the stack of news papers.

It went without saying that Steve knew the murder happened close to the time Billy was out crashing his car into a ditch. The papers would have the estimated time of death for the trucker already listed. And there are only so many dark back roads to take home. Steve wasn’t big about reading text books back in high school, but with his job at the radio station he needed to keep up with local news by reading the papers. He likely knew more about the murder than Billy did.

And he had met the killer. Billy hadn’t considered that until just then. He had met the killer.

“It’s not a big deal,” Billy drawled in his husky voice he knew did things to Steve. “I wasn’t close to him. He couldn't even see me crawling around in that dark as all hell ditch.” Billy lied. He knew the rider stopped his horse last night just to look down directly at him.

Steve cupped Billy’s chin and pulled him to look back into his eyes. He stayed there for a second just searching, like he could see deep enough into blue color that he could see past the lies, and fear.

Just then, rapid popping interrupted Steve’s search. The eggs sounded off from the stove top left lit and Steve scrambled to get them off before they burnt. Billy let himself breath out a laugh as he separated the cooked eggs off into two plates.

They cleared the table by pushing all the news papers to one side and enjoyed sitting knee to knee on the other side.

Steve’s cooking was always a treat for Billy. The Hawkins native had spent a lot of time traveling abroad with his parents and picked up a sweet tooth for flavor. It also helped that his mother gifted him with a completely furnished kitchen when he moved in, including top of the line appliances, expensive pots and pans, and an almost pretentious wall of spices right next to the stove.

Billy loved the way Steve cooked, even when his meal was coupled with a harsh glare from the other side of the table.

In retrospect, he was happy that Jim didn’t break his trust by spilling his name to the papers. Steve was another story, he deserved to know what happened. Billy was going to tell him in his own way, eventually, maybe with some beers in him already.

But the cat was out of the bag.

As Steve ate his eggs his fork scratched over the plate painfully loud. “Not a big deal you drove off the road? or not a big deal you almost got your head taken off by a maniac on a horse?” Steve shot the question out like a bullet.

Billy groaned around a mouth full of eggs before swallowing. “None of it is a big deal, baby. I’m here still with my pretty head on my shoulders. What more could you ask for?” He wiggled his eyebrows as he spoke.

“Hopper seemed to think it’s a big deal! These news papers making the police sketch of the guy front page is a big deal!” Steve’s reply sounded annoyed, his voice sharp. And he had a point.

“Yeah,” Billy leaned back in the chair as he thought about his words. “I know, Stevie. Okay? I know. And I’m doing what I can. Talking to Hopper. I was the one who sat in the station this morning and let them draw up that lame sketch of this weirdo.”

Steve seemed to calm down with those words. He let his fork rest on his plate as he leaned forward a little, cupping his hand over Billy’s thigh, and furrowed his eye brows in concern.

“I’m just...,” he huffed out a breath. The words seem to turn to smoke in his throat as nothing comes out.

His eyes glossed over from the effort. “I’m so worried about you, Tiger. Always am.”

Billy knew this was about more than last night. He always knew it was wrong to let Steve get close to someone who burnt everything he touched, but he couldn’t help it. Especially the way Steve was looking at him right now, like he was counting the stars endless and fantastical in the night sky, Billy couldn’t say no to anything Steve wanted.

Feeling his own eyes gloss over, Billy leaned forward and got one hand on the back of Steve’s neck. He pulled him in for a quick kiss to his forehead and whispered into his still messy bangs, “don’t gotta worry about me, doll.” Then he leaned back and took another bite of eggs.

Steve pulled up his arms so he could lean on the table with his elbows. If he was masking a few tears falling Billy couldn’t see through the hands over his face. They sat like that in silence, both trying to keep their emotions behind their eyes.

Billy finished his eggs then seemed to remember something in his pocket. He fished out the small business card that Spencer left him with. There was tomorrow’s date a little smudged on the back but he still showed the messy handwriting off to Steve like a trophy.

“I got a job.” Billy announced. The mood lightened back up again. Steve graced him with a smile.

“All right, that’s really good, babe.” Steve rolled his tongue as he took the card. “Spencer’s Shop.” He read the logo out loud. “Is this an auto body shop?”

Billy stood up to collect the plates. If Steve was going to cook he was going to wash up the dishes. “It’s a mechanic. Going to be getting my hands dirty fixing up broken rides. Just the way I like it.”

Steve laughed from the table, his fingers still flexing over the card stock. “I’m sure you are going to be like a pig in shit.” He turned to look up as Billy let out his own laughter, throwing his head back and letting those tight blonde curls bounce a little.

When he finished washing the few dishes Steve used to cook, Billy made his way back over to the table. He stood behind Steve’s chair and wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders then buried his face in pillow soft chocolate hair. Steve lifted one hand to rest over Billy’s forearm to drew small reassuring circles into the warm skin.

“I’m gonna be like a pig in shit when I finally take you up on that offer. When I can finally pull my own.”

Steve laughed again. “I told you I don’t need-,” his words were cut off by a rough kiss.

Of course Steve didn’t need Billy’s money to get by, but it wasn’t about that. Billy needed his own life and his own money. He needed to know he was a man and not just some mud on the bottom of his fathers shoe, or some cat living at the foot of Steve’s bed. He was a man who could fight for himself. And by some grace, he found a cute boy who allowed him to fight his own battles.

They kissed slowly, tasting around and letting the other know that they had time. They weren’t going anywhere.

Billy had leaned Steve’s head to look up while he kissed from above him. It wasn’t comfortable for long, but as Billy softly stroked the muscles of Steve’s neck pulled impossibly tight under soft skin, he could imagine heaven.

Steve pulled away first and took long breaths. There was a smile on his face though and no animosity for the surprise kiss.

“I just want you, Billy.” He was sleepy in the way he spoke so easily.

Billy wanted to reply that he was lucky to not have to care, that not every kid had a plate of food for them at home if they ever found themselves wanting. Billy reminded himself that was out of anyone’s control. And yes, he could feel the twisting want in his own gut asking to be with Steve whatever it takes.

Instead of voicing anything, he just let his hands linger for a second more before he walked down to the pile of news papers at the end of the table.

He picked one up and there was a low quality copy of the sketch he saw that morning. A dark colored almost completely blacked out rider on a similar colored horse. It seemed non-threatening, maybe even a commercial for some horse race, but the headline over the picture made sure to grab the readers attention.

 **Headless Horseman Terrorizes Hawkins: Trucker Decapitated Road Side**.

Decapitated. The word rang in Billy’s head like a bell. He was holding onto the news paper with a white knuckle anger, crumbling the article, and hearing a satisfying rip.

For a janky small town they sure printed their news fast.

Steve had gotten up from the table to change out of his matching blue flannel pajamas. More gifts from his mother. He returned to the kitchen with a tight sweater and tighter jeans, making Billy’s head swim more than it already was.

So caught up in manhandling his emotions, Billy didn’t hear Steve talking until he saw his lips moving.

“-Nancy I was talking to earlier. She wants me to come in and talk about this. Says I shouldn’t mention it on my show. Fine by me, I don’t like getting serious or political anyways,” he trailed off with a chuckle, watching Billy softly. He had one hand on his hip and the other on the table right next to the news paper. Obviously letting Billy know he could see his hands.

“I mean come on, Nance, how am I supposed to play easy listening tunes and wish people a good night while bringing up some murder?” His voice was calm and joking and it made Billy’s skin crawl. The blonde could feel shivers up the back of his scalp, making his curls even tighter on his head.

With a whip of his head he turned to Steve then started stalking away. “Don’t have to play it up for me, you know. I don’t give a shit about what Nancy orders you to talk about.”

“Nancy doesn’t order me!” Steve started a conversation they have had before, but that’s not what Billy is getting at.

“And you don’t have to pussy foot around me either, Steve. Nothing happened last night, okay.” His own finger poked into his chest painfully. “I’m still alive! Stop acting like this weird shit is bigger than it is!”

Steve seemed to understand it with that. His mouth closed with a sharp click of teeth and his hands stopped being fists on his hips. The fighting stance he took went lax under Billy’s wild eyes. “I...,” he started to talk but shook his head. His long hair free from hairspray this early shook perfectly with every movement. 

“I’m sorry.” He settled on with a breathy huff. “You are right... I’ve been all shitty babysitter on you this morning, haven’t I?”

That made Billy laugh, his only real laughs that reached his eyes and belly were unlocked with Steve. He couldn’t stay mad at anything the other did, not when he needed him so damn much.

They settled down in a silent agreement to not mention last night any more. In the growing sunlight the apartment again became a place of safety.

Steve dragged the pile of the newspapers to the living room where he made a mess over the coffee table. Billy stayed in the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee not necessarily for himself, it was around around 2 in the afternoon, but so Steve would know he wanted to be sweet on him after that outburst. He padded into the living room with a tall white mug in hand, steam rolling off the top, and handed it off with a smile.

Billy always enjoyed sitting in the reclining chair opposite the couch to watch Steve ready for his show in the little ways he would. News papers are just one thing, he also had printed out letters letting him know what was expected of him, another printed out with the weather report, and a long list of music they kindly suggested. Steve usually didn’t listen to their suggestions of music and just played what he felt like. Thankfully for the radio station, he usually felt like playing a love song.

Watching people being busy was something comforting Billy kept a hold on for a long time, he enjoyed watching his mother work and especially read out loud as he was growing up. He hasn’t asked Steve to read his work out loud quite yet. 

Billy sat quietly in the recliner with a smoke between his lips.

Steve seemed to grow tired of reading after Billy finished only a handful of chain smokes. He stood up from the couch and stretched out, letting his sweater ride up his stomach, and put on a vinyl Billy didn’t know or care to know the name of. But the song made Steve smile.

The thin boy swayed his hips as he went from the record player to the recliner. He plucked the almost extinguished cigarette from Billy’s mouth and sucked it into his own. “This seat taken?” He didn’t wait for a reply before lounging across Billy’s lap.

“Baby doll,” Billy’s voice was low, dangerous. Smoke from Steve’s drag heavy between them. “Didn’t you say you had to go in early tonight?”

The cigarette was left burning in the ashtray as Steve leaned in for a deep kiss. “I’ve got time.” He breathed into swollen lips. And they did kiss slowly, languidly, letting their chins move together so their lips never parted, just like they had all the time in the world.

Billy could feel himself heating up and lifted his hips to where plump ass was between his parted legs. That motion dragged a moan louder than the guitar playing from the record.

“Steve,” it was Billy’s turn to part from the kiss first. “Time?” He groaned the word like a curse into the sharp bone of Steve’s jaw.

“Yeah yeah, okay.” One more kiss before Steve stood back up.

They went for food together, not on a date, just as two friends. Billy decided he wanted some food in Steve because at work he sometimes forgot to eat. Steve tried defend himself but he couldn’t pass up a free burger, or more time spent knocking knees under a table.

Billy had to drop him off at his apartment hours earlier than usual but the day was strange in more ways than one. He waited parked outside until he saw Steve’s lights flicker on. The sunlight was just changing to rainbows of orange and pink. Another pretty sunset was just starting and Billy enjoyed the sound of his own taste in music as he drove home.

The house was quiet when Billy got back. Neil, Susan, and Max must be out having a family day in the beautiful Indiana autum. That was fine with Billy, he didn’t want to play family, and he was grateful Max was able to experience what he couldn’t.

Instead of walking on egg shells, he strode into the kitchen for a few cold beers then made himself comfortable on his bed. It was still before 9 so he stuck his nose in an old surfing magazine just to pass the time.

When the clock finally turned, Billy’s eyes were heavy. He usually had no problem staying awake later, but his call time for Spencer was early so he really should be getting more sleep.

The last commercial gave way to Steve’s program. Billy drank the last of his second beer down to the final drop and laid across his bed just to bask in his voice.

“Hello, again, Hawkins. Welcome to Until Midnight with Steve Harrington. I’m Steve Harrington. It’s another lazy October night outside. The moon is pretty, almost full, but you can’t see it with all this fog still clinging to us.”

Billy wasn’t listening anymore, fallen completely asleep. He didn’t hear a heavy door creaking open in the night.

“The weather is again completely low visibility. There are no accidents reported on the road yet, but still be super careful driving.”

At the other side of town. In a small auto repair shop. Another door creaked open, slower, darker, letting the fog from the street outside roll in. There was a reading lamp turned on atop a metal desk. The person sitting there didn’t hear the door.

“But! make sure you still tune into my show! Especially today because its that special time of the week they let me take your calls here at the station.”

A radio was turned on at the desk as well. The voice from it was soft. Not nearly loud enough to drown out the shouting and screaming, or the gurgle of blood pouring from a man’s throat.

“I like these days. Makes me feel like I’m not completely talking to myself, you know? A little more on that coming up, right after some good music.”

Soft voices of a girl and guy sounded good together as they started into a love song. But the man crippled over on the floor didn’t hear the radio anymore. His blood started drying and turning black on the concrete floor. A black pool not unlike a portal drawn around his headless body.

On the other side of town, Billy slept, and his radio turned off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is much longer! hope you enjoyed! sorry for making Spencer cute, ill be nice in the next chapter to make up for it i promise. Thank tons for reading and please leave a comment???
> 
> and I made a mood board for this [HERE](https://catharrington.tumblr.com/post/614779964107243520/sleepy-hawkins-20k-words-m-graphic) !!!!!!


	3. father knows best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy didn’t turn back into Hawkins. The old, dusty town was full of ghosts as far as he was concerned. Ghosts, and handcuffs with his name on it. Billy drove until the red around his eyes started fading away and the water on his cheeks dried up.

That morning Billy was awaken by many sounds all at one time. His watch he set before sleep was chiming rapidly with his alarm, and Max was standing over him, hands on her hips.

“Wake up!” She widened her eyes like she was old enough to be that exasperated by anything. “Why would you even set an alarm if you don’t wake up to it? Billy!”

With a groan Billy lifted his head from the pillow. He blinked sleep from his eyes as he took in his own bedroom, and his step sister standing over him with anger red as her hair. “About time. I was going to smash that watch.”

“Do it and you're dead, shitbird,” Billy’s words were not really threatening this early.

“Whatever. Mom’s got breakfast ready.” She said as an invitation and it was cute.

Billy glanced down at his watch and noticed he didn’t have much time to really enjoy a meal before he should be at the shop. “What did she make?” He sat up on his bed, his old band shirt clung sweaty to his torso, and a knitted blanket fell around his waist. Strange, he didn’t remember covering up with any blanket before he went to sleep.

“Pancakes and bacon. Better hurry I won’t save much for you.” Max was already at the door ready to leave but she replied over her shoulder.

Billy ran his hands through his long curls as he considered how to start his day. “I’m late. Can you bring me just like... a pancake with some bacon rolled in it?” The order was a little bit of a joke, but saying the words out loud Billy actually considered it might taste okay.

Max looked at him like he had two heads.

Their relationship was never the best, but they lived together and existed together as cohesive as they could.

After the night Billy broke into the Byers’ house and showed his true colors to the whole group, Max has been keeping him in check. Both with kindness where he needed it and mostly with threats. It’s been extremely helpful in more ways than one. She was the one who ordered Billy to apologize to Steve for turning his face a pretty shade of blue and purple.

She huffed out of his room with her hands in the air. Billy assumed he had a 50/50 shot of her actually coming back with that food.

He shifted more in his bed, deciding that he should finally move, and started pulling the blanket off his legs and gathering a change of clothes from the drawer before he made his way to the bathroom. He was in his top drawer when Max actually came back with a soft knock on the wood. She pressed the door open with her elbow and stood holding a glass of orange juice and a paper towel wrapped around a pancake with 2 strips of bacon in the middle.

“You are so fucking weird,” was all she muttered as she passed the food off to Billy who was wearing a shit eating grin.

“Watch your mouth, brat.” Billy should say thank you but he didn’t have that word in his vocabulary. Instead, he drank the orange juice whole in a few quick gulps just to show off how weird he could be, and also how thankful he was for the drink.

Max made a big show of rolling her eyes before she turned to leave again. Billy called out for her to wait, then he reached back over to his bed and grabbed the knitted blanket. The material was soft to the touch, smelt like Susan’s favorite fabric softener, and was colored neon pink and orange. He balled it in his hands to throw it hard right at Max’s face. He should say thank you for bringing him a blanket last night. “Might want to wash that,” is all he could get out.

Max replied with calling him a big idiot but her smile was obvious as she closed the door behind her.

After eating and showering Billy went straight for his car, trying and succeeding in not having to great the remaining members of his family. He was plenty on time but Billy really wanted to put on a good face by getting there early for Spencer. So he pressed the gas and drove quick to the shop.

When he got close, however, his heart sank down to his stomach. There was a ring of police cars around the small shop, their red and blue lights flickering off the metal of the garage doors. Billy groaned as he spotted Jim’s Jeep in the front of the pack.

The Camaro slowed as he drove up, a part of Billy wanted to turn back and pretend he was never there, but there was another part of him that could feel his name being whispered through the fallen leaves. Beckoning him to come closer and see for himself.

Billy pulled into the small space left behind a police cruiser and killed his engine. The hat that was given to him yesterday sat in the passengers seat looking squished, lonely. He tried not to notice it as he climbed out of the car.

“Police only by this point,” a thin officer with glasses tried to hold his hands out to block Billy, “sorry fella.”

There was a second Billy felt like being his old self. He could see himself crystal clear pushing this officer to the ground and kicking him in the stomach just for good measure, but he forced himself to remember that pancake with bacon rolled in it.

“Let me talk to Hopper,” he growled.

The thin guy opened his mouth but nothing could come out before the voice of Jim was interrupting them.

“Hargrove,” Jim was standing in the door way. The same open screen door Spencer watched the Camaro speed away from yesterday. Jim motioned his hand in a wave.

Billy shot the officer a shit eating grin as he pushed right past him going up to where Jim was standing.

He wasn’t overtly friendly with Jim, but he knew enough about him that he never looked scared. Yet now, as he walked in front of Billy to lead him into the tiny corner office of the shop, there was only the word scared on his face.

The metal desk still stood in the corner of the office as Billy remembered, but it’s chair was tipped over on its side, and the man who was once sitting it was sprawled out on the ground. Billy was standing back looking in from the doorway but he could see the lake of blood formed under that old mechanic jumpsuit. And he could see the blackened stump of a neck. And he could see no head.

Billy felt his feet move before the electricity in his brain told them to move. He lunged back out into the morning sunlight quicker than coming up for air from a dive. Billy stood a foot away from the open screen door just breathing.

Jim followed him slower, a morose look heavy on his face as he watched the boy collect himself. “Sorry. To show you that.” He mumbled around the butt of a cigarette.

Billy knew his hands were white knuckle fists at his side. “Is that...,” he needed to ask.

“Spencer. Spencer White, full name. He was up working late last night. Crunching some numbers and some papers. Some with your name on it, Hargrove. I was going to call you but this... works too.”

Billy forced himself to pull the business card he kept secure in his shirt’s front pocket. With tight movements he handed it over to Jim. “Yesterday he- he offered me a job.”

Jim turned the card over in his hands a few times reading it. He ran his thumb over the ink on the back. Then he let out a long sigh.

“Hoof prints behind the garage. Missing head. All signs saying we have a serial killer in Hawkins. Someone playing a damn game.” He grumbled low almost to himself. “This keeps coming back to you, Billy. But I know this is a small town. This could be nothing. Or it could really be something.” Billy watched as Jim’s posture changed, his shoulders took on a square shape and his eyes darkened as he looked down the inches he had on the younger boy. “It better be nothing.”

That was a threat, completely black and white. Billy had heard similar from his fathers mouth, back in California when he was asked why he never hanged around enough girls. The words rang like warning sirens echoing through the now tainted streets. Billy’s eyes were already wild from the scare of seeing a corpse, but now they were furious.

“You gonna ask me where I was last night, officer,” Billy put a smear on the word as if he was saying a curse. “You wanna call Stevie up and double check what time our date ended?”

Jim’s face was taken aback with that quickly, his shoulders lazed and his mouth slightly falling open. Billy knew he was close to snarling at the officer, or maybe he already was. “No, no, Billy... I-,”

“If you want to ask me go ahead,” Billy held his hands out and presented himself in front of a firing squad, “I’m gonna tell you right now I ain’t got shit to do with this. You either believe me or you don’t. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass.”

There was a moment of silence, a moment Billy feared he might have let his words take the situation too far, but Jim had nothing to reply. Billy put his arms down in a flurry, enjoying the loud noise of his hands slapping denim clad thighs. He continued to glare daggers into Jim.

“I ain’t insinuation, kid.” The older man ran his hand across his face in a show of exasperation. “I just don’t believe in coincidences.”

Billy sucked at his front teeth. That was as good as a yes from the small town cop. Yes, it seemed like he was at both scenes, and yes he was being treated like a suspect. Billy felt his throat swell from the sour betrayal he had to swallow down. After all Billy had done for the other man: saving his daughter then trying to sacrifice himself on the 4th of July when he finally came up from under the spell of the upside down. Billy thought he would be sitting in the good graces from the party, but he couldn't even sacrifice himself right. 

He had thought wrong.

“Once a killer always a killer, hum, Hop?” Then on his old combat boots Billy turned tail and ran back to his car. He didn’t, couldn’t, hear the reply from the other. He just had to leave as quick as he could. Pushing with a hard shoulder past that same thin cop, he slammed his door shut behind him before spinning his tires to kick up as much dirt and mess and anger as the Camaro would allow. 

Billy didn’t turn back into Hawkins. The old dusty town was full of ghosts as far as he was concerned. Ghosts, and handcuffs with his name on it. Billy drove until the red around his eyes started fading away and the water on his cheeks dried up.

He checked around at the street signs realizing he had driven a few county’s over. Nothing surprising, nothing he hadn’t done before.

The sun was setting now. Washing the sky in brilliant oranges and reds. Billy pulled into a small diner and just watched as the colors turned. Orange gave way to pink, purple, then a dark blue encased most of the sky. The night was coming and Billy just watched as it crept up. He leaned forward on his forearms, pressing them hard into the steering wheel, and found himself praying. Not to the god his father believes in, or even to the god his mother believed in, he was praying to a god in human form. A god with chocolate brown hair and moles on his skin.

Billy didn’t know why but he turned the key in the ignition and turned around back to Hawkins. He didn’t know why but he felt himself driving home. Billy felt like an absolute coward as he crawled back the only way he knew how.

It was a little after the sun finished setting, not so dark but dark enough the street lights were flickering on. Billy drove his street for the thousandth time without expecting anything different, maybe a sheriffs Jeep waiting for him, but he fully wasn’t expecting a little red BMW parked brazenly across from his front yard.

Steve stood in the street, leaned back against his drivers door, with his arms crossed over his chest facing the house. The brunette boy had his hair styled back cleanly and a brown coat with tawny fur lining around the collar stretched with the effort of crossing his arms. The jacket was a nice outfit choice, Billy thought painfully, because the way Steve seemed to bristle with anger mirrored the messy fur around his neck.

There were hours before his show started so he had the time, but Billy wished he didn’t waste it on him.

The Camaro settled into silence on the other side of the street. He got out slowly, chewing his lip as he looked around at the house. Sure enough, Neil’s truck was parked meaning the man was home. Now was not the best time to be nursing Steve down from a fight.

“Billy,” Steve opened with a sharp voice as he lowered his arms to walk towards the other, but before he could Billy was already crossing the street in long strides.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Billy breathed out.

“What?” Confusion on the doe eyed boy looked so good it was distracting. “I shouldn’t be here? I came here to find you! Hopper has been calling me non stop begging me to-,”

Billy cut him off with a dismissive flick of his hand. “I don’t give a shit about Hopper,” he dragged the name again, “and whatever he said to you it’s not true, okay? He’s just a bullshit small town cop that gets easily worked up.” Steve had his confusion gone and replaced with a tight lipped glare. “You know you cannot be here.” Billy enunciated each word with a point towards Steve’s chest. Hopefully he was pushing his point, but Steve never backed down easily.

“Are you done?” The annoyance in his voice was knife sharp. “Hopper told me enough. He said you were the one who jumped to conclusions. After everything do you really think we would label you a killer?” His eyes grew soft as he spoke, all the emotion overflowing into each word. “Everyone you saved-“

“I’m the one who jumped, hum? Did he tell you all about how good old Spencer from Spencer’s Shop got his head taken off? How that leaves me 2 for 2 at being at the scene of a crime?” Billy felt his words roll out hot and heavy without care that he was spitting them right into Steve’s face.

“He didn’t-“

“Yeah I figured. Doesn’t fucking matter though, the only thing that matters is I need you to leave!” Billy was just below shouting.

Steve took a step forward into Billy’s space. There already wasn’t much room where he had huddled the boy up against his car door, but now Steve pushed himself closer, wrapping his cold thin fingers with a bruising grip around the collar of Billy’s jacket.

“Billy,” his voice, lowered now to a whisper, almost drew a whimper from Billy’s throat. “If it’s something to do with the mind flayer. The upside down. Tell me. Please, tell me. I’ll fight it with you! You don’t have to be alone, not like last time. We’ve won before and we can do it again-“

Their lips were inches apart when Billy separated his in a growl. “You shouldn’t be here...“

And as if on cue, Steve’s fingers went lax on their hold, his body going a step back into the metal of his car. Billy didn’t have to turn around to see that Steve was looking at the porch of the Hargrove house. The night around them seemed the only grow darker.

Billy took a step back into the road, letting his eyes linger on Steve’s sunken face for a moment more, before he turned around and stomped up his yard. Neil was blocking his path by standing in the door way. His mustache was coiled tight under his nose and he watched unblinking as Steve got in his car to drive away. Then his eyes turned to look at his son.

“Harrington?” He asked.

Billy felt his body hurt all over. He never wanted his father to see or speak about Steve. He tried so hard to keep them separated, warning with fire in his eyes for the boy to never come to the house. Now hearing his name on his fathers lips was like nails being hammered inside of his skin.

“Yeah,” he managed through chewing and swallowing those nails.

Neil kept his cold eyes on Billy as he stepped off the porch and started to the back of the house. There was a hill beside the Hargrove house that almost hid a car port, almost being key because Billy could still see the tail of that ugly truck from the street. He followed his father with heavy footsteps.

“Why was he here? Why didn’t he come inside?” Neil had many questions. Billy couldn’t give him any answers.

Instead of accepting silence, each question was enunciated with a fist to Billy’s gut. The car port was one of his favored places to manhandle the boy because it couldn’t been seen from looking out the screen door above them. Not from Susan, not from Max, as long as Billy was quiet. So he grit his teeth and stayed quiet.

“Your prissy rich boyfriend thinks he’s too good for us?” Neil was spitting across Billy’s face with his words. The spit was mixing with tears running down Billy’s cheeks. “You god damn faggots have no respect for anyone!” With that it wasn’t so much the punch that sent Billy over, but that disgusting word directed at Steve, that finally knocked the boy to his knees.

Billy clutched his stomach as he groveled on the ground, taking long gulps of air between sputtering breaths. Neil stood over him flexing his hands like he won a fight. They stayed like that, winner and loser, until a soft voice called out from the screen door above.

Neil turned to the porch to make sure they were not joined. Then with a tilt of his head he looked down at his son. “Get up. Inside your room, boy. No dinner.” He spoke each string of commands crueler than the next.

Billy struggled to find his hands then struggled more to pull himself up from the dirty driveway. He didn’t look at Neil as he went. Inside he ran past Susan, neither chanced a look at the other, it went without saying that she simply didn’t want to know.

Billy finally got to the safety of his room, closing the door behind him, then let himself fall back onto the floor. He cried there, noise muffled into the carpet. There was no strength in him to change clothes, crawl to the bed, check the time, or even turn on the radio. He just laid there letting his tears soak into the dirty tuffs of brown and he didn’t know when he finally fell asleep.

Neil had gone inside to eat with his family like nothing was wrong. He laughed with Susan and asked Max about school work. He ate his fill of meatloaf and green beans and then excused himself back outside with a kiss on top of his wife’s head. Never once did he check in on his son.

Warm from a good meal, Neil went outside into the cold October air where his swollen knuckles got some relief. There was the same fog from the nights before rolling, what seemed like, from out of the trees and down the street. Neil opened the door to his truck and switched on the radio. He turned the dial a few times trying to tune to just the right station before a clear voice let him know when to stop.

“Now with that boring weather out of the way, I’ve got a special surprise for you guys listening! So I was able to convince the producer at the station that because she ripped my heart out and stomped on it not once, but two times! That she owes me a favor! So I’ve opened the phone lines again.” Neil felt his skin bristle from hearing Steve Harrington’s preppy voice and soft laughter over the air. It made him want to lumber back inside and and start round two in teaching lessons about responsibility and respect. But instead he pinched the cigarette he was smoking between his fingers and listened intently.

“I don’t trust myself entertaining you tonight all alone. Don’t want to be a wet blanket. So Hawkins, can you do me a favor, too? Can you call in the station and let me know if you’ve ever been in love?”

Neil’s grip on his cigarette was white knuckle, his breath mixing with the smoke and the fog around him like dragon’s anger. He didn’t notice that the fog had rolled down into their quaint little car port. Didn’t notice the heavy falling of horse hooves down the street.

The sword went silent through the air and Neil almost didn’t notice until he absolutely had too. His body slumped forward and collapsed into the ground, not unlike how Billy was laid out earlier, but Neil’s head didn’t tumble forward with his body. The car’s radio kept playing into the night like nothing happened.

“So, while I’m queuing your calls, I’m going to play some of my favorite songs. Starting with ‘I left my heart in San Francisco’. I bet they don’t have such terrible weather over there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Shorter chapter this time but im going to make up for it the next few dont worry! Billy has to put up with a lot of stuff and now add suspect in a murder case to his list. OR maybe not according to Steve?   
> Thanks soooo much for reading~~~ im finshing up this writing quicky and will try and post a chapter a week until its finished. :) goodnight


	4. Dreaming of black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do we kill it?” Billy felt himself saying more than thinking it. The feeling of winning over that horror and protecting the people he cared about was a foreign taste in his mouth, but he wanted to taste it so badly.

Billy knew he was dreaming because his stomach didn’t hurt in the way it did when he fell asleep. A tight, bruising pain that was a branding from his father. In this dream world he didn’t feel it, and it was almost nice, had it not been for the pitch darkness surrounding him. The only sensations was water kicking around his feet and if he looked down he could see his own hands. Other than that he was silent and blind in a void.

He called out into the room but his own voice didn’t make a noise. He tired again and again and then stopped when he finally did hear a nose. It wasn’t his voice, however much he rather it would have been, it was the steady clicking of horse hooves. They were behind him so Billy turned on his heels, looking with intent to fight. But the rider was not there. He heard the hooves again behind him, and again spun, but again the rider wasn’t there.

Billy felt trapped in an echo chamber game that he didn’t know the rules for. He tried shouting ‘I don’t understand’ into the void, begging for some clarity. But received nothing.

Billy lifted his head up and screamed as loud as he could. Then under his own scream came another. A higher pitched woman’s scream flooded his senses and the void.

The scream ripped Billy awake because that wasn’t part of his dream.

He scrambled up to his hands and knees, taking a moment to be thankful he could see his surroundings, before he hauled himself out of his bedroom.

Glancing around he didn’t see anyone, but the screams continued. They would fade out with the strength of her throat and then go right back into another one. Billy followed it easily into his kitchen, out to his back porch. He held onto the railing and onto his still sore midsection as he walked slowly down towards the car port.

And then he finally saw Susan, her hands clasped like fists in her red hair, and Neil. His father was laying stomach down on the drive way that was now a blackened pool of dried blood. His head was missing from his shoulders.

Decapitated. The word rang like a bell in Billy’s ears. He leaned over the hand railing for their porch and threw up the few contents of his bruised stomach.

Feet started running on the kitchen linoleum and Billy thanked the stars he was able to hear them and turn to catch Max as she rushed out of the back door. He was still bent in his middle and dribble was on his lower lip but he fixed her with a glare he hadn’t used since they moved into this shit hole town. “Get inside,” he demanded with wild eyes.

She hesitated but she still held that fear for what Billy might do. So she turned and went back through the door. Billy knew she was instantly going to call for help, maybe her friends, maybe Hopper. He didn’t care. Billy just gripped into the railing and watched as Susan mourned over a man that no one should mourn for.

There wasn’t a glimmer of sadness in Billy that morning. He was sad for the trucker, he was sad for Spencer. But nothing could bring him to feel anything but hollow for the passing of his father.

Then there was sirens sounding across the quiet streets. Billy wanted to run but he couldn’t hide from it now. He stayed his ground as he watched the police cars paint his own house red and blue. Watched as a crowd of officers surrounded the body and tried to comfort Susan. Watched as Hopper climbed the stairs to the porch slowly with his hands up like he didn’t want to startle a wild animal.

“Billy,” Hoppers voice, Jim’s voice, was kind. Nothing like Neil’s voice. “I need you you come with me okay? I’m going back to my office, please come with me?”

Without thinking Billy felt himself repeating the same thing he demanded into his dream world. “I don’t understand,” he groaned.

Jim reached the same step Billy was standing on tentatively then reached out his hands to steady the boy. “I don’t understand,” Billy heard himself repeating.

Legs regained their strength, a little, as Jim pulled him away from the railing and inside the house. He kept one firm arm on Billy’s bicep as he lead through the kitchen and into the living room. There was something comforting about the casual, routine way Jim was holding himself.

Outside there was again the circle of cars with their lights. Billy scanned the crowd and noticed Max right in the middle being held tight in a hug by Joyce Byers. The party never seemed short staffed when it came to comfort the children. Billy had to force down a part of himself turning green as he watched Joyce run her hands through Max’s wild bed head.

Jim kept leading Billy outside and to his parked Sheriff Jeep. The man had jumped the curve to park on the dead yellow grass of the front yard. His tires were leaving deep prints. Billy considered it was good to see more of this place getting destroyed.

“Watch your head,” Jim grumbled in a warning as he braced the back of Billy’s neck to push him into the passengers side, and the boy went pliant under that small grip, firm but soft.

Billy thanked his god that he was given the decency of not being handcuffed and allowed to ride in the passengers seat. He let his defenses down as Jim drove off into the street. The window was cold under his forehead and Billy closed his eyes as they drove away from home that never felt like home.

Before he knew it, they were parked at the sheriff office. Jim kept to the parking lot this time. His boots were louder now against the pavement as he walked around to help Billy out the door. Nothing seemed to pass by the sheriff, Billy tried to keep his hands over his stomach while still walking normal, but Jim noticed his awkward limping. He didn’t need to lift the boys shirt to know he was black and blue. Jim wasn’t a fool.

“Sit here,” Jim grumbled. Billy followed where he was pointing to a well used sofa in the corner of the office. The older man dug through his drawers then came up with a glass bottle of apple juice. He pushed it towards Billy, ordering he drink it, and didn’t leave his looming stance over the couch until Billy took a gulp from the bottle.

Billy hadn’t noticed the way his stomach bile was burning his throat until the juice helped chase it away.

Jim pulled his chair from behind his desk to the couch. He leaned comfortably in it, spreading his legs, and planting an elbow on either knee.

“Son,” he started, the word was like cold water over Billy’s shoulders, it pulled him to look directly at the man. “Your father is dead.”

Billy just keep his eyes straight. Jim searched for some response before groaning and continuing himself. “I don’t think you did it, kid. I never once thought it was you.”

There was comfort in those words, but Billy kept it down by rolling his eyes. He took another deep drink of juice just so he could have an excuse to turn from Jim’s intensity.

“What I think is going on here is something is hunting you. A damn monster- maybe that mind flayer from the upside down.” Jim held his hand out as he spoke. “I wished to god we killed that thing… It’s not finished with you.”

Billy felt his skin chill. There was a gust of wind in the small office aimed right for Billy and making his muscles tight, making his arm hair stand on end. Without controlling it, he felt his eyes flick around the room as if he were still in his dream void looking around for an intruder. Just like his dream, there was no one.

The bottle of apple juice got slammed back in one long gulp.

“This thing is getting closer and closer to you with each person.” Jim kept explaining. “And if it catches up to you, nothing good is gonna come from it.”

Billy felt his body tense at that. Either his head was on the chopping block, literally, or there was going to be another attempt at the mind flayer taking control. That summer was a blur to Billy, a hurricane like storm inside his mind, but he knew what he did. He knew what the mind flayer was capable of when he got his teeth into a body. That night he had gotten freed of the spell just in time to save Jane, Jim’s little girl, while Jim and Joyce turned off the machine creating the portal to the upside down. He watched the creature who had tortured him and held his own brain hostage melt into useless goo. The only things more satisfying than watching it die was knowing he protected the girl who saved him like he always tried to protect Max, and that Steve was watching.

“How do we kill it?” Billy felt himself saying more than thinking it. The feeling of winning over that horror and protecting the people he cared about was a foreign taste in his mouth, but he wanted to taste it so badly.

Jim dragged his hand over his face. “That I don’t know.”

The office went into silence, both sitting with their eyes on the ground turning the gears of thoughts over in their heads.

Suddenly, a knock pounded against the wooden door. Billy tried to make the way he jumped from the noise not apparent. Jim stood up from the rolling chair quickly but walked more hesitantly over to answer.

Billy felt a weight lift off his chest and the soreness in his stomach dissipate all at once as the door opened to the righteous figure of Steve. His hair was sloppily pulled to one side, he wore the same clothes as last night, and he was holding his baseball bat hammered with nails. Billy thought he was absolutely beautiful.

When Steve’s eyes found Billy’s his rigid hold on the bat slacked and he rushed over to the couch. He sat down a distance away to be cautious of the other people’s eyes in the room, but still allowing their knees to touch.

Nancy and Jonathan followed after him with shy smiles. In the year Billy hadn’t seen them, they surprisingly didn’t change much at all. Her curled hair was slightly longer, enough to put into a messy pony tail, and she was wearing a simple dress for the radio stations office work. Jonathan was in dark colors with a baggy denim jacket and the way he looked just like he did in school was reassuring to Billy. Even if Billy never liked the duo.

“What are you kids doing here?” Jim was apparently confused, but his relief couldn’t be masked.

“My mom,” Jonathan started then scanned the room to find Billy’s eyes. “She brought Max over. Total crying mess the both of them. But she told me about what happened. I called Nancy for help.”

The petite girl standing at his elbow nodded. “We’ve been up all night trying to find something from reports and the papers. Me and Steve. I think we found something too.” She held up hand full of loose notebook paper and news clippings.

Jim motioned her to his desk and she laid out her findings pointing firstly at an article from three nights ago. “When the police did a full walk through of the scene they found ‘masses of black lumps fallen off or discarded in the woods’ this could be residue from the upside down.” She flipped to another article to show a similar line printed next to a black and white photograph of Spencer’s face.

Billy felt his shoulders tense and he looked away. Steve was close to him, pressed as close as he could without being obvious, enough to see his cowering. He laid his free hand softly over Billy’s elbow still bent holding his stomach. Squeezing it for reassurance, and making the pain in his gut feel even more distant.

Nancy didn’t notice as she continued talking. “I think this thing is weakened from moving away from its portal, or maybe not having a portal at all. That’s why it’s been hunting at night in the fog, sneaking around.” She stood up full and folded her hands across her chest. Jim watched her for a tick of the clock then turned back to the papers on his desk.

“Okay, so this thing is weak and alone. Hopefully. Based on a theory. What does that give us?” He glances between Nancy and Jonathan who stayed quiet for a tick too long.

“It’s means we can kill it.” Steve spoke up. His voice was hard as his grip on his bat. And his eyes were just as sharp, digging their way into Billy’s own. “When I hit the demogorgon I drew blood, made it run away with its ugly tail between its legs. If there isn’t anywhere for it to run off to then I should be able to finish it off. Kill it.”

Billy felt a stinging in his eyes from the light that was radiating off Steve’s cocky smile. “Regular action hero.” Billy spoke to him for the first time and his words were pained to get out, but so worth the blush it caused the other boy.

“Steve’s right!” Nancy chirped in his defense. “I do think we can kill it. And even if it does run then we will know where an open portal is.” She flicked her eyes towards the sheriff and then back towards Jonathan. “Hopefully there won’t be.”

Jim was visibility thinking, going over the ins and outs of what Nancy presented to him. Sometimes his hands dusted over the papers but they didn’t stay long. He pulled his pack of smokes out of his shirt to light one up.

“Okay,” Jim’s words were slow, calculating, as he looked between Nancy then Steve. “So we make short work of this bastard. How are we going to do that when it’s sneaking round in the dark? And I don’t know if you realized, Harrington, but it’s riding on a horse. I’ve seen the hooves marks. Don’t think a bat is going to win.”

Steve bristled as he looked down at his bat. “What the hell then?” He muttered out. Billy kept his eyes on Steve, enjoying the way his hair flopped messily over his forehead when he moved.

Nancy shuffled on her feet as she thought. Her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as she chewed the inside of them in thought.

“I got an idea.” Jonathan spoke up, his eyebrows lifted up into his messy dark bangs like even he was surprised at himself. “I kept that bear trap.”

With that the plan fell into place easily. Jim left to call his officers to clear out of the Hargrove house. Jonathan and Nancy went in his old car to get the supplies from the Byers’ shed. That left Steve and Billy sitting quietly on the couch waiting for the call to endanger themselves in a fight.

There was a crippling anxiety in Billy as he thought about his position as the bait in this shit plan, but he agreed with a somber nod as they all proposed it. It would be the quickest way. Especially if Jim was right and this thing was hunting him. Billy had faced down many monsters, human and not, what’s once more?

No matter the time that passed on that little couch though, Steve kept himself bristled for the fight. His shoulders were tense. The bat never left the hand that wasn’t touching Billy. He was a sight to behold, all hard edges and sharp lines. An inversion of the Steve that Billy had laid in bed with and kissed his lips hot pink all those long sun sets. But somehow not unlike that Steve at all. The strength of his protectiveness was always there as permanent as the moles on his skin. Billy’s breath felt hard in his chest.

“I um,” Steve’s voice cut sharp into the quiet. His hand had long been curled around Billy’s elbow but now he let go of it to work in a worried push through his hair. Small, familiar ticks like that sent Billy’s breath more strained.

Steve glanced around the room making sure they were still alone. “I’m sorry I came to your house. I know you told me it was dangerous with… Neil. Sorry about him, too. But I couldn’t not see you.” His shoulders hunched up into his neck. “I had to know you were safe. After Hopper called he said you drove out of town. And I know how much of a hot head you are driving fast so…” his voice trailed off. Billy was watching him not caring how his mouth was slightly hanging open. Steve turned and finally met their eyes.

“I just had to know you were alive because…,” the air went cold again, Billy could hear those hooves again, Steve’s voice was a car’s headlights cutting across a dark road. “Because I love you.”

Billy couldn’t stop the way his eyes turned down to the floor.

“Sorry, again, it’s so damn unfair but like, we might not talk again? So I wanted you to hear it.” He looked up at Billy with huge doe like brown eyes. “Gotta have you hear it, at least once.” he breathed out.

There was a stiffness of expectation Billy felt all too well. He could feel it brewing in himself, deep in his stormy mind, the desperation to make those kisses mean something and those heated nights last forever. They danced around feelings and wrote every lingering hand hold or kiss off as lust wrapped in friendship. At least Billy was under that impression.

They never said those three words. They never came up. Somehow saying it make their relationship seem more real, and in Billy’s world the real things are the things that get broken.

Billy couldn’t see Steve get broken.

He lifted his arm that was still nursing his bruised stomach to cup the back of Steve’s neck. He worked his tired, calloused fingers into that soft hair trying to hide the way they were trembling. “I’m not a bad driver.” He muttered the wrong words. The words Steve didn’t want to hear. But they were the only words Billy had. “Don’t gotta worry bout me. Thought I already told you that, baby doll?”

Steve allowed himself to mold under the fingers on his skin. He tilted his head forward and silently accepted the touch.

More silence, again and again Billy was drowning in the silence. But this time at least he was holding onto a life preserver in the oceanic void of this silence. That would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so close to the end. the final fight! we gonna monster hunt. and wow speaking of i hope this doesnt come off too scooby doo. but i actually love the monster fighting trio of steve nancy and jonathan and they are great at solving mysteries :) thank you SO MUCH for READING!


	5. Jaws snapped shut

When Jim came back into the little office, the boys reluctantly moved away from each other. He waved his hand in a ‘come here’ motion then walked outside. Steve and Billy followed at his heals listening to more of the plan: Nancy and Jonathan were going to meet them with the trap at the Hargrove house. They were debating to rig a trap of gasoline as well, but figured it wouldn’t be the best idea if this creature was in any sort of thick woods.

Jim was still talking as they all piled into the police Jeep and speed off down the road. Billy rode shot gun almost as a force of habit, but Steve willingly jumped in the back, allowing Billy to be more comfortable or maybe needing the extra seat space to hold his bat.

Whatever it was, Billy was exceedingly thankful to be sitting next to Jim when he held out his pack of smokes in an offering. Billy deliberately took two out, ignoring the side glare, popped one between his lips and offered the other into the back seat. Steve leaned forward to take the cigarette so gracefully between his fingers with a wide smile it could have been a glossy magazine advertisement. Billy used Jim’s lighter to light his own tip, then passed it back.

“Didn’t know you smoked, Harrington?” Jim rumbled something that wasn’t multi dimensional garbage for once. “This shit could kill you, damn kids.”

Billy let out a relaxing sigh as he rolled smoke off his tongue. “Thanks for the help in killing me then, Hop.”

Before the older man could react, Steve was leaning into the space between the front two seats and punching Billy as hard as he could in the shoulder. “No one is going to die tonight.” He muttered serious as a heart attack around the cigarette in his lips. Steve kept eye contact while he took a long drag then went back to the back seat to let the smoke out.

Always so respectful of other people, wouldn’t even blow his smoke in Billy’s face. Billy wanted Steve to blind him with blowing it right into his eyes, like he had while sitting on his lap not two days ago, but instead he side eyed Jim and kept quiet.

When they got to the Hargrove residence it was quieter than Billy would have imagined.

Jim parked his jeep a little down the road so they could have a good vantage point on the whole house. Without asking for permission, not like he needed it, Billy opened the old metal car door and started walking up the street.

Billy could see into the carport for a moment. The pool of blood was still where Neil left it. Billy wondered if it would ever come clean or would Neil’s death leave a permanent stain on the concrete just like his disgusting hands left a stain on everything else he touched. He wasn’t worth the effort to guess, Billy decided, as he kept walking up the street to his parked Camaro.

Getting into the drivers side, Billy clapped his hands over the steering wheel and just breathed.

An hour seemed to crawl by, forever almost, before there was a quick tap against glass, then the passengers side door opened. Steve ducked his head in to sit. His face was brilliant in a pearl white smile, so out of touch with the situation they found themselves in. But that was very on brand with Steve.

“Hey, stranger,” he sighed out, making himself at home even with a huge wooden bat with nails nestled between his thighs. “You ready?”

Billy didn’t know how to reply. He just shrugged his shoulders and continued looking out the windshield, drumming his thumbs nervously against the wheel.

Steve clicked open the glove box to fish out the pack of Marlboro reds he knew were there. He took two out, pressed one to his lips, and lit the tip cherry red. Billy watched from the corner of his eyes as Steve offered him one right at the curve of his lips. All Billy had to do was open his mouth and the soft filter made its way inside. Steve lowered his hand to run along the collar of Billy’s jacket, then pulled tight as he leaned in and pressed their cigarette’s tips together. Billy breathed deep, sucking a drag hard so his own would light with the fire from Steve’s.

It was a lot of emotions, looking into Steve’s eyes while he breathed so deeply, more than Billy would ever allow himself to feel. More than the nicotine in the smokes could numb. He tried to forget them all as he shook his hair out and leaned back into his own seat.

“Just stealing peoples cigs today, hum, doll face?” Billy joked.

“Not just anyone’s, just yours.” Steve smiled.

They shared a look, then turned away. The air inside of the cab was heavy, thick, rolling grey like fog from their smoke. It grew and grew as they sat silently. 

“I though of something.” Billy muttered almost to himself. He didn’t turn to look at Steve because he knew the hope there would be a gut punch. So he continued, “I thought about this... trying to remember before this Hawkins shit. Back when I had the ocean. Back when I had... my Mom.”

Billy stopped talking only to take a drag of his cigarette. Not to will away the sob from his throat. Not to look over at Steve, who’s eyes were locked tightly to him. 

“Way back...,” he explained, “my Mom used to read to me. Try and calm me down, she would say it helped to get shit out-loud. I got to thinking about the times she read Sleepy Hollow to me. I used to hate that damn book, but she loved it. So I let her read it out-loud. And now...”

Steve’s little gasp is louder than he meant it to be, obnoxiously cute like the rest of him. “Sleepy Hollow? I mean yeah the simalarities are there but it’s way too on the nose man.” His tangent paused. Billy dared a look and saw Steve chewing on the pad of his thumb. “Unless you are thinking this is some mind game?”

Billy snorted. “That’s what the pipsqueaks call it, right? The mind flayer.” He flares his fingers out to dance along the dash board. The slight silver scars on his hands and wrists disappearing under his jacket sleeves a sobering reminder of the damage that can be done. Billy was better now, stronger and himself, but some days the cracks in his skin were cold to the touch. This was one of those days. 

“Don’t seem too out of the ordinary to flay my mind. Find something that it can use to get me again.”

There is a moment where Billy thinks that Steve is going to yell at him, but it never comes. Instead, fear freezes the air as they realize that idea might not be as ridiculous as it sounded.

“Your Mom sounds nice?” Steve whispered.

“She was,” Billy replied, tongue and heart feeling like a lead balloon.

Outside, the blue of the sky was fading. It was crawling towards sundown, just starting to darken with the turning of the clock.

Billy considered that this might be the last sunset he gets to sit next to Steve, to enjoy with him and be with him. And to say anything he might have to say. Like a reply to a love confession. God, Steve was so strong to say it first and here Billy was scared and cowering in his bucket seat just from the idea of replying anything.

His words weren’t coming, and he knew they might never come. It was unfair to give himself to Steve, to love him, when he will be dead soon. So Billy stayed silent.

Another knock on the door jostled Billy’s quiet, but this time on against the glass of the driver’s side. He turned sharp to glare up at the noise, and found Nancy looking back at him. Wearing a bright smile and holding a huge paper bag.

“Oh wow, is that food?” Steve’s eyes were huge and brown as he looked between the two.

Billy snubbed the end of his cigarette in his center ashtray. “That or they put the bear trap in a bag.” He surprised himself with how steady his voice was. “Good ole Wheeler coming to serve us monster guts.”

Steve huffed but it was a laugh most of all. “First, hell yeah, Nancy so got us food! And second... please eat some food with us, Billy. I know you haven’t eaten anything while with Hop.”

Rolling his eyes, Billy tried to stop his hands from shaking as he reached for the door handle. “I haven’t eaten anything all day, even if it’s monster guts I’m going full wolf on those bastards.”

They got out of the car in sync, Billy trying to not pay attention to Steve as he started singing Duran Duran’s hungry like the wolf under his breath.

Jonathan had parked on the other side of the road and was sitting on his hood eating a deli sandwich. Jim was leaning next to him enjoying his own, eating a lot faster than the napkin wiping at his mustache could keep up with.

Nancy was still standing a foot away from the Camaro with her thin fingers around a bag. She didn’t flinch away or move back as Billy got out to tower over her a full head of height. He was happy that she didn’t, it would make him feel monstrous in a way he never wanted to feel again. 

She kept that smile on her face as she held up the offering. “Didn’t know what you guys would really like so I just got today’s special, it’s turkey, I think.”

Billy watched her for a moment, his brain moving a little slow, when Steve came around his shoulder and took the bag with a graceful smile. “Sounds so, so good, Nance. Thank you. Turkey is worlds better than monster guts.” Billy was annoyed that he could make saying a lame inside joke so attractive.

“Monster guts?” She was confused, her eyes wide and pretty. Steve just laughed.

They all sat around Jonathan’s land boat of a car, leaned on the rusting metal, while Nancy joined him on the hood. Billy kept himself flush to Steve’s side knowing that he’s the only reason he’s allowed. Jim filled them in about the supplies in the car and the plan to eat then set them up. 

They had to be quick, sunlight wasn’t going to last forever.

The placement of the trap wasn’t hard, but it was up to chance. They measured lengths of rope then tied them to trees with the hope of creating a maze for the horse where the end laid the steel jaws of the trap. It was Nancy’s idea, of course, she explained it all as Billy worked up a sweat tying heavy rope in knots.

“We make them just high enough to stop the horses legs, so it has no other choice.” She was hovering by the middle of a small clearing where they laid the trap. 

Jonathan was cutting brush and collecting dead leaves to use as cover. He was wielding a thick axe and Billy wondered how he even got his hands on something like that, and if he would let him use it.

“Hopefully Billy will be enough of bait for it to just ride up,” Jim added in. He was pointing out tress where the ropes were to be tied, looking very much the part of a sheriff.

Steve shot him a harsh glare from where he was kneeling on the ground cutting rope, Jim didn’t notice or didn’t care. For Billy, it didn’t hurt his feelings, he agreed this was the best option, and he would rather it was him as the bait than skinny little Nancy or Jonathan cutting their hands open again.

Billy was always the kind of person who wanted to fight his own battles, even if he was going to loose.

From behind them, Johnathan’s car was left idling so the headlights could illuminate the woods. Out of his car radio came a break from the advertisements.

“Good evening Hawkins and welcome to Until Midnight with Steve Harrington. You’ve got favorite Aunt Robin here in the studio today. Yeah... I’m not Steve. Sorry die-hard fans out there but your King is taking a personal day. I’m sure he’s having a blast taking a bubble bath wearing some chunky, creepy, green goo face mask, hum? Imagine that great mental image I’ve painted for you while I try and figure out what lame songs he wanted me to play”

Nancy stopped rattling off orders to listen in. “She’s actually good at that.” She commented with a laugh.

Steve rapidly shook his hair out in a lame attempt at hiding the embarrassment on his face. “Oh my god, she’s totally ruining my reputation. Green goo face mask? What does she think of me?”

Like they were thinking the same thing, Nancy and Jonathan shared an amused smirk, their eyes connecting for a moment before he turned back down to the grass underfoot. Billy swallowed thickly as he tried to focus on his job.

From the other side of the clearing Jim announced that this was the last tree they had rope for. And like that the trap was set, locked into the ground with a push, it’s sharp teeth pointed up to the moonlight as an beacon. 

Billy found his spot next to the trap, kicking around the mess of leaves and branches, as he grumbled around the butt of another smoke.

“We are going to be right here,” Steve was talking from the other side of the tree line, but his beautiful smile was still clear enough to hurt. “Just relax? Or meditate, or some shit. I promise nothing is going to happen. We’ve got you.” Steve’s hair moved with his head as he nodded so serious and so somber as he assured Billy in a way he had no right to.

There was no helping or saving Billy. He knew what was going to happen. Billy rolled his shoulders under his jacket, denim with a lining of Sherpa, a gift from an Indiana native who knew how cold nights can get. It was right that Billy would die in his favorite position bought by his favorite person.

The fog rolled in on cue. The last remains of the sunset flickering out horribly. Billy watched as it licked about his boots like shadows of grey cats.

“Come on,” Billy whispered just to not be in the silence.

“Come on.”

The ash of his cigarette long dropped burnt into the ground. They waited. Hours ticked by and Billy’s legs were stiff, yet they waited.

Two clicks on the radio signled that Nancy and Jonathan got something on their side of the trees. They had camped out next to an upturned log listening intently, while Steve and Jim stayed out on the street in front of Billy’s house watching for movement. Words were too dangerous, so Jim outlined one click for maybe, two clicks for something’s in the woods.

And there they were again, two clicks.

Billy felt his muscles flex and his nostrils flare. There was a movement from the street but that wasn’t it. Billy could see a shadow moving along the trees, maneuvering slowly, keeping distance like it knew and was debating.

The neigh of a horse made Billy’s flexing muscles chill with goosebumps across his skin, and his nostrils flare. Another two clicks, and the shadow started through the trees slowly.

It swam through the fog calculated and hunting, Billy had seen a shadow like this before as a hungry shark circling under him curiously for food. But this shadow wasn’t curious, and it wasn’t circling, it was coming.

The hooves pushed their way to the first line of ropes and they were on the money, just high enough for it to lead, so the shadow slowly walked. Billy watched as it came sharper and sharper into focus. The figure separating from the horse in its shape, and the smoke coming from both creatures mouths more obvious. The smoke curled around the figure and fell to the floor of the woods making the fog ever dense, completly unknowable in its thickness.

But still Billy watched. The rider followed the ropes back and forth, closer still, until he was the same distance as the ditch on the side of the road and someone standing above it looking down.

Billy looked up into the face of the rider, actually looking now, and saw a sickly pale round and faceless creature gripping claws into the neck of a horse. Long arms that looked like reigns but were actually the emaciated limbs of a horrible creature. Everything on the body of the thing dripping wet with blackened filth.

The horse sounded off a high pitched screeching noise, nothing like the noise of a horse. And Billy saw then too that this was a mockery of life, a monster from the blackened abyss of the the upside down.

There were no more clicks, but Billy heard the crunching of sticks under feet and the sharp intake of breath as the others gathered around.

Steve and Jim stood farther away into the trees, hopefully a safe distance, Billy thought as he spared only a fleeting glance to Steve’s pretty face before he turned back to the monster.

In a show of force, in a show of being an asshole, Billy lifted his arms as an offering for the rider. He steadied his pounding heart and opened his arms in the same way he had to this filth before. 

And the rider didn’t hesitate to take it. The creature lunged forward, powerfully build black legs punishing themselves as it raced through the woods and towards Billy. He was looking at the head of the monster, the pale corpse colored head, as it pulled apart and came to life in a blood colored flower shape.

Billy tried to step away at the last second, tried to play his part and do what fucking Nancy Wheeler said and stick to the plan, tried to be strong so maybe Jim Hopper would be proud of him, tried to stay alive to maybe admit how much he loved Steve Harrington right back, but Billy lived his whole life letting people down.

He stepped back but it wasn’t fast enough, the monsters arms were long and thin and fast. The rider reached out and dragged its claws right across Billy’s neck.

And like a broken toy, Billy fell with a whoosh right to the grassy floor of the woods.

There was a scream and then another scream, this one was otherworldly and animalistic. It came with the tell tail noise of a sickening crunch. The horse found the trap and it’s legs were rendered useless. 

In a heap the monster tumbled and fell off its crippled horse. But the monster was still very much alive.

Billy couldn’t feel much, couldn’t see much, but he saw enough to see the dark outline of a person. Hunched over and holding something. Readying his claws for another strike, Billy expected. And he almost closed his eyes to let it happen, when the person knelt down and ran his human fingers through Billy’s hair.

He looked up, and Steve looked back.

Billy’s hand was cupped tight against his throat that was cut open, blood was bubbling out from between his fingers like water boiling out the top of a pan. He was afraid to speak, and if Steve’s glossy hazel sparkling eyes were anything to go by he must look bad off.

But Steve didn’t pull back, he didn’t stop running his fingers through Billy’s hair. And he was an idiot for it. Billy wanted to yell at him, to tell him to run. He wanted Steve to survive where the trucker and Spencer didn’t. Where he wouldn’t survive, Billy at least knew that Steve deserved to survive.

That’s when Billy noticed more shadows behind Steve. Three more people standing in a perfect crescent moon shape around where Steve was knelt over him.

Nancy holding a gun out stretched in her skinny arms, Jonathan dangerous with his axe held up in the air just waiting to bring it down, and Jim a sight for sore eyes in his wide brimmed sheriff hat with a shotgun pressed into his hip. Steve wasn’t alone.

Billy watched as the monster still came towering above them, it’s hands swords sparkling in the moonlight, one of them dripping rubys of Billy’s blood, and it came fast like a shark in the water.

Then one of its arms was blown away. The limb fell backwards with a sickening crunch and tumbled away from its body. The echo of a gunshot disappeared into the night only to be joined by another one. Another limb, one of the monsters legs, ripped out from under it.

There was a henious cry, an otherworldly howl of pain and desperation, as the monster crumbled to the ground.

Nancy and Jim’s guns were smoking just as thick as the fog around them. The creatures mouth head was open wider than ever. And from its own mouth more fog rolled, ever cascading and gathering, a life force trying to mask its death.

Jonathan stepped once forward and brought his axe down hard against the monster’s other leg, successfully pinning it in place.

Billy watched as they surrounded the broken, crippled, screeching monster as it laid helpless on the ground. He gripped at his throat hard and shook as the tried to stand. Steve moved his hands to Billy’s shoulder, trying to steady him, but it didn’t work. Billy stood up, his body now a bloody mess and breathing not coming easy, but he still stood.

“Baby,” Steve’s voice was an angel’s saving grace in the middle of a battlefield. Billy reached out his unoccupied bloody hand to cup Steve’s cheek. He left streaks of red but Steve didn’t care, he didn’t even flinch as Billy pressed himself as close as he could get.

“Baby, don’t-,” Steve tried again but he was cut off.

Billy pressed their lips together quickly and desperately, but softer than he thinks he ever kissed Steve. And that was a shame because Steve deserved to be kissed all the time as soft as possible.

Billy kissed him, and Steve kissed back. Their lips moved slowly and their heads tilted so they could feel as much of the other as possible.

Billy leaned back just a breath away, just enough to get his lips to brush against Steve’s trembling ones as he replied, “I love you too, Steve. I think I’ve loved you more than anything in my whole life. I think I love you more than my life.”

And then Billy broke his well practiced mask of a smile with a sob. He struggled, red eyes stinging with blood and tears, as he watched Steve look back at him.

“Gotta have you hear it,” Billy kept talking even when his voice was raw and every word made the ripped meat of his throat pulse more blood against his fingers, “at least once.”

Steve was beautiful in the moonlight. His dark brown hair was colored black, and the dark circles under his eyes were downright ominous. He was crying, two clean streaks of water down each pretty cheek, and his eyes were sparkling glass with the effort. But where Steve was beautiful, he was equal dangerous. And fire, and courage.

That long messy black head of hair shook, one steady shake, telling Billy no. Steve stood up from the hand cupping his cheek and he turned away from Billy.

Steve marched with the confidence of royalty past the trio still surrounding the monster. His hand was a white iron grip around the neck of his bat. Steve spun it once, then twice in his hands, then brought the nail covered face of it down into the teeth of the monster.

This time the crunch and crack of bones and skin was satisfying. Steve brought his bat down more times than Billy kept count. Then he stopped when the monsters head was nothing more than a circle of blood on the grass, the color slowly turning black and drying to resemble a portal to another world.

Steve turned to look back at Billy and his eyes were wide, feral, and serious. The hazel in them shone under the moonlight a beautiful rolling bourbon dripping fire down Billy’s throat. He gulped. And Steve started walking back to him.

“No,” he gasped out his words in desperate breaths. “No, you don’t get to die here. No one is dying here.

“I love you, Billy Hargrove. And you accepting genuine love might not be something you are ready to admit. And you might be ready to roll over and die! But I love you, so I will do everything I can to save you every time. Every single damn time! And I’ve got a bad habit of coming out from this shit alive.”

Steve let his bat drop to the leaves on the woods floor with a clatter. He stepped close only stopping right in front of Billy and this time cupped his cheeks with both hands. 

Neither boy cared that Billy was covered in blood and Steve was covered in slime worse than that, they only cared that they had each other. In sync they leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. And just breathed.

From a distance Nancy, Jonathan, and Jim were stunned silent. They knew the monster was going to be short work, but this was on one hand messier and faster than they were anticipating. Jim grumbled with the want to get to Billy, while Jonathan held his arm a little. Asking for just another moment so they could work it out. Billy hadn’t passed out from blood loss quite yet.

And slightly farther down from them, Nancy sat in the grass with her gun loaded in her hands. The horse was still struggling in the jaws of the bear trap. It’s whimpering almost spent but still noisy. 

Nancy could see where it once was a horse, once a beautiful creature she respected, and now was a festering sack of rotting flesh held together with the skin of a horse only barely. The tentacles of the upside down were worn like across every inch of the animal. Nancy lifted her gun to its head and put it out of its misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went a little grindhouse death wish on the end there lol sorry. feels really good really organic. this was longer than i imagined SO i will make an epilogue of feelings and recovery so please be on the look out for that. steve is billys biggest fan no way he is going to let this loser try and sacrifice himself a second time. thank you so so much for reading and please leave a comment if you can :)


	6. Epilogue

The vaseline cap snapped closed softly, quietly, in their quiet apartment. Steve rubbed a generous amount in his hands to warm it up before bringing soft fingers up to Billy’s neck. They are still cold so he earns a harsh hiss, but he’s gentle in the way he works. Steve spreads his fingers out across pulled tight skin, feeling each bump and groove of scar tissue old and new across Billy’s throat. He rubs the cream in gently, so soft and gently, he can’t take it himself.

  
Steve leans just a little bit forward and presses his forehead into the curls of Billy’s hair.

“Baby?”

Billy tilts his head back more, looking up from his chair to Steve who is standing behind him. “Feels good,” he breaths out.

Steve makes a little hum noise in reply. He’s smitten by the designs crisscrossing across Billy’s neck. He’s enamored, even after so many times of seeing, feeling, and helping to apply the vaseline to heal; he still find Billy’s neck so beautiful.

A thick scar runs across the length of it, right across where the doctors had to scramble to keep the blood inside of him. “Missed anything important by centimeters.” Steve could still here the doctors explaining how bad it could have been. 

He remembers the nurse running her hand across Billy’s shoulder as he laid on the hospital bed in a neck brace and saying, “boy, you must have angels watching out for you.”

Billy scoffed. He couldn’t move much, in pain and in the stiff brace. But he turned his eyes to Steve, shuffling around a nervous mess at the foot of his bed, and smiled. “No, mam. I’ve just got the one.”

That scar healed over time as a long mark of lifted white skin across his neck. Billy lived with it as best he could. He would moan that it makes him look like a ghost the best days. On his bad days he would wake up screaming in his sleep, tossing around on the sheets and pulling that scar taught with the straining of his throat. Steve would wake him up and hold him. 

In Steve’s apartment, no, now it was their apartment, bad nights found them laying quietly. Steve’s fingers working across Billy’s hair and running down his tense shoulders. While Billy watched the wall wide-eyed trying to forget the sound of horse hooves. Or the sound of claws ripping skin. 

Most days he was fine. In the arms of Steve he always felt better.

A part of him kept dwelling on the night in other ways. He regretted at first saying his confession back, maintaining that Steve didn't deserve someone like him. Someone who was going to leave.

But every single good or bad day Steve let him know that wasn’t his choice to make. Billy still has trouble saying those three words back sometimes. Where Steve will chant it like a spell against his skin, write it down in letters, sing it out for anyone to hear; Billy still has trouble saying it back. The words catch in his throat. The scar heavy across and suffocating him. 

It was Max’s idea to get a tattoo to cover the scar up. She and Susan moved in to a ground level apartment right under Steve’s. The girls were happy to get their own place and made it as comfortable as possible. 

No matter how nice they set it up, Billy still didn’t like to visit with susan. He could never trust her enough to feel safe. But with Max he continued to try where they had left off building a normal sibling relationship. Even if most of it was Max spreading out her school work and comic books on the dining room table inside of Steve’s expensive kitchen and ordering Billy around. 

They were eating before school, Steve flipping pancakes with cinnamon in the batter, when Max just suggested it out loud. “Cover up tattoos can be really cool,” She said around a mouthful of food.

Billy paused from rolling his pancake around a few sticks of bacon to watch her. “Cover up tattoo?” He parroted back. 

Max rolled her eyes. “Yeah I’ve seen a couple nice ones in this magazine Mom got. They work around scars and things to cover them up with the art. It... I don’t know? Could work for you?” She motioned with little fingers blushing red to her own throat. 

Billy watches her hand with intrigue. “I know what a cover up is, shitbird. Wasn’t asking that,” he sneers.

From the stove Steve shouts, “language!” over his shoulder.

Billy doesn’t notice it, instead he lifts his own hand to trace along the white skin. “You see anything in all this research your doing about necks?”

Max squeaks. “I’m not doing research about it! I told you I just saw a couple pictures!”

“Sure, sure,” Billy chastised. He watches her stab at her pancakes hard and blush harder. She looked caught red handed, just like her hair. 

“You know, that actually sounds like a good idea, Max. I’ve been thinking about getting more ink.” Then he shrugs.

With a cute smile on her face, Max turns down at her breakfast to try and hide it.

Steve walks over to the table with his own plate filled with food, and before he sits he runs a hand down Billy’s tense shoulder blade. 

Billy spends two days thinking about what he wants to get. Spends much more time talking with the owner of a shop about placement and movement and what have you. Steve supports him, in everything he does, but it’s almost comical how out of place Steve dressed in a periwinkle blue long sleeve polo looks waiting around in a tattoo shop. 

He’s needed though, because when Billy sits down on the chair and the needle readies at his throat, Steve’s already holding his hand. 

The style Billy chose was American Traditional because heavy black lines and saturated color were good for covering scars, and Billy wanted it dark. The shop owner specializes in it and easily drew up what was in Billy’s mind. A reared up horse with muscle rippling in heavy contrast of black ink and open skin with a rider sitting atop just as black but with a brilliant flowing red cape. The riders arm was out stretched holding a laughing pumpkin head colored deep rustic orange that was burning in flames. From the length of the horses sharp hooves to the outstretched arm holding the jack o’ lantern created a perfect long line to cover the scar over Billy’s neck. 

Steve wasn’t sure at first if this is what Billy should get. It felt to him too grim a reminder of the games the monsters lurking in the upside down love to play. 

But Billy saw it differently. The picture reminded him of the hardback copy of the book his mother used to read to him. Her fingers gripping hard around the edges as she made different voices for the different characters, leaned forward during dramatic parts, and laughed when he pulled the covers up to his eyes.

The memory was scary, Billy could attest for that, but in the fear there was goodness. The tattoo helped him remember his Mother. So with love and support in everything he does, Steve held his hand as Billy sorted out the good from the fear. 

Now inside their little apartment all of Billy’s things were all of Steve’s things and of course the other way around. They slept together and woke up together. Billy continued watching Steve prepare for his radio show every day; Billy with a cigarette between his fingers and Steve holding a cup of coffee Billy brewed for him.

And even if it was hard sometimes to get the words out. Even if he felt like there was a gash across his throat ripping the skin and spilling his blood. Especially when he could hear the scratching and screeching of monsters clawing their ways towards him. Billy still said those words back to Steve when he could.

In moments like this one where he sits at their little kitchen table with his head tilted back and cradled so softly against steves chest. The other mans hands working gently against his throat to heal him and smooth the pain as much as he can. Billy let’s himself say it.

“I love you, Steve.”

And for Billy the smile those words earn him is the whole world. His brilliant brown eyes crinkling with lines as Steve positively beams for him. 

“I love you too, Billy.” Steve kisses gently into Billy’s head of curly blond hair.

For the first time in Billy’s life the monsters in the darkness feel so far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the soft epilogue I wanted to add last chapter but ended up writing way too much. it’s short but important: Happily ever after!! 
> 
> Billy’s tattoo is referenced from this one [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B3ivxO_lgQn/?igshid=n8s6cxhfllrf) Check it out!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and please leave a comment!!! You can check out more works at my tumblr catharrington. 
> 
> and I made a mood board for this [HERE](https://catharrington.tumblr.com/post/614779964107243520/sleepy-hawkins-20k-words-m-graphic) !!!!!!


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